


Midnight Comes and Midnight Goes

by Mssilverwoods



Category: The Durrells (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 07:03:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18987658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mssilverwoods/pseuds/Mssilverwoods
Summary: Probably 3 chapters, on moving in and moving on. Mild smut and vague plot of sorts.





	1. 1

‘There’s an attic room you can have.’ Louisa watches him leave the kitchen, aware that his small bag is barely big enough for a pair of socks. 

Spiro knows where this room is from when another family were here though he’s hard pushed to recall their names. It feels like this house was waiting for the Durrells.

He pauses at the first step. ‘Do you want a drink?’ Louisa asks him softly, a light touch on his arm. He blinks, struck by her kindness and nods, unable to trust himself to speak and follows her back to the kitchen.

‘Have you had any dinner?’ Louisa suspects that if they rowed like her and Lawrence did, the food may have ended up in the bin. In her house the bin was also known as Roger.

Spiro shakes his head, he’s ravenous and watches as she conjures up a plate of cheeses, bread and tomatoes and motions to him to sit down. Whilst he eats, he watches her glide around the kitchen, making a pot of tea and produces cake which she shares with him. He eats to stop himself talking because he can’t think of words in any language that seem appropriate to express his gratitude to her and how much he loves her.

‘Maybe this would be good too.’ Louisa pours them a glass each of ouzo. The heat is a welcome distraction. Outside crickets clack and the clock on the mantlepiece marks the midnight hour. 

‘You’re not like anyone else I’ve met before.’ Spiro’s words slip out too easily. He sighs, slumps in the chair letting the peace float around him.

Louisa swishes the alcohol around her glass, watching it turn from clarity to clouds, ’Why are you here, Spiro?’

‘I didn’t know where else to go,’ he admits. ‘My wife… she has another man I think. Then when we rows, she says yes, so I left.’ 

Louisa looks at the floor. She expects that Florence would have jumped up at the news and told her to bed him. After all it’s news she’s longed to hear but it leaves her oddly rattled. Spiro sees her discontent on her face and waits for her to speak. ‘You said that we hadn’t done anything wrong but we have, Spiro. That is why you are here.’

‘I haven’t kissed you.’ Spiro looks guilty, ‘that’s not what you mean is it?’

Louisa can’t help but smile. Nevertheless she holds out her hands and counts off her fingers as she speaks; ‘We’ve almost kissed so many times, held hands, told each other we love each other whilst drunk. I think of you too much for this to be an innocent friendship. Once you said my name in your sleep… yes, you did, that night you slept on the settee. If I’d had one more glass of ouzo I’d have been on your lap. I know you dream of me as I do of you.’

‘That’s a lot of wrongs.’ Spiro acknowledges. He pauses as he takes in the context of her words and is astonished by her confessions. A curious smile plays on his lips.

Louisa meets his gaze, seeing the proverbial penny drop, feeling a thrill at surprising him, ‘I’m as capable of erotic thought as you are.’

She swallows the dregs of her ouzo and plays with the glass. When she speaks again, it’s said so quietly he has to lean forward to hear her. ‘If my husband had done all that with another woman, I might have had an affair too. I wished you’d left for me alone, not because of her actions.’

He hasn’t any reply for this and can only cover her hands with his. She bats them away impatiently, ’It’s fine. Well, it’s not. I’m not asking for marriage for goodness sake, just certainty. Spiro, isn’t it time you stopped breaking all our hearts?’

‘I never meant to fall in love with you,’ he says softly.

‘Nor I with you.’ Louisa stands up and sighs as his arms wrap around her, his head resting against her belly. Instinctively she threads her fingers through his hair. ‘You must decide what you want to do and put us, and your wife out of our collective misery.’ 

She reluctantly extracts herself from his hold, aware that in the stillness of this night, she could easily put her dreams into reality. Instead, she clears the glasses away and then turns to look at him, aware he’s watching her every move, ‘I won’t come to your bed until you do.’

Louisa is so dog tired and tomorrow she is dreading for reasons she can’t explain to Spiro, not tonight anyway. She doesn’t hear any movement on the stairs. In the morning, the kitchen is spotless and wonders if she dreamt it all.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadness echos around the villa as Spiros makes a decision.

Hesitantly, Louisa opens the kitchen door, daring herself to see if Spiro’s taxi is parked outside. She doesn’t believe in ultimatums as a rule unless it applies to her children and she’s so used to them finding loop holes, she’s all but given up but she had to do something. In the cold light of day, it feels foolhardy. 

Two arms stop her stepping outside, catching her round the waist. She knows them so well but she gasps at an unfamiliar sight, ’Your wedding ring?’

‘I don’t know that I can divorce.' He speaks softly, ‘that is not done here, I know of only one man in Athens who did. Everyone does, his life was hell. But it is over, I have made my choice.’

His hands moved to cup Louisa’s face, his eyes full of hope as his lips met hers. She has a fierce desire to taste him overriding all other thought. Holding still, he watches the pulse jump at her throat, her tongue darts between her lips and her eyes show concern.

‘I need to tell you…’ Her words are interrupted by the start of breakfast. Spiro catches her as she slips from his arms, but she shakes her head, ‘Later. I promise. It’s nothing you’ve done...’

It’s the details that Spiro sees, having known this family for so long. The guests and Basil, barrel to the table, each chatting over the top of each other, clamouring for attention, sending the pelicans into the living room. Louisa listens politely but he sees the smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s a little short with Basil this morning too. He sees Gerry and Margo give their mother wordless hugs before they leave. Larry is sat beside his mother and unusually quiet, does Louisa meant her eldest? Leslie is oddly absent, almost always driven by food. Spiro looks quizzically at Louisa, the smile she directs to him does light up her face, adding truth to her words that it’s not him and, thankfully, not Dimitra. Her answer is lost in the demands of her guests who have agreed to go to Paleokastritsa on the far side of the island. 

Louisa loves Spiro all the more for noticing that there is something out of kilter with the mood that she hasn't had the chance to explain to him. He rises from his seat, ever watchful and clears up his plates. As she joins him at the sink he murmurs, ’You are sad. I can stay if you wants?’ 

She shakes her head emphatically, ‘You are simply lovely. But no, you must take the guests and get paid for your services.’ 

She’s right, if Dimitra gets her way, he’ll need every penny he can earn. Spiro gives Louisa a gentle kiss on her cheek and promises to be home as soon as he can. Gathering up the guests with characteristic ease, he drives the full taxi away.

Leslie is the last to leave. ‘I’ll do the stall today. No, no, I insist.’ He wafts away her obligatory protest. Louisa knows today is the last opportunity to win the heart of a girl selling bread. Her father returns tomorrow. Truthfully she’s scared of seeing Spiro’s wife, former or ex wife as she must now be. Louisa feels horribly vulnerable as if any attack from her would leave her fleeing for England, rough boarding school or otherwise.

‘I’ll come with you,’ Larry pipes up. ‘It’s alright, I’ve no intention of standing on the stall next to you. I have provisions to get. I’m making dinner tonight.’ He leaves this revelation hanging in the air as he slips on shoes and finds his hat.

Louisa smiles softly, ‘I’ll be fine, Leslie, I promise. Cakes to bake, beds to make and…err… pelicans to shoo.’ She eyes the bird who has stalked through from the living room and out onto the terrace. ‘Do make sure Larry actually buys food we can cook won’t you?’

‘Is Spiro still around for a lift?’ Leslie looks behind her, ‘Not hiding in your skirts?’ He skips out of her reach with a grin and she can’t help but smile as he coaxes Gerry’s donkey down the drive. Even her children don't mind that Spiro is all but in the family.

Louisa clears breakfast, puts a cake in the oven and sorts out washing for the laundry. In her room, she pauses at the photo of Lawrence. Any other year, she would have sat with the photo in her arms and wept on this day, the anniversary of his death. This year, in her arms she carries a present and holds a sense of purpose for herself, not her children. She hopes her late husband would approve of her actions. She has bought Spiro some extra shirts, a few vests and a pair of trousers which she now lays on his bed. If the laundry gets washed tomorrow, he’ll have to sit naked, not that she’d object. It seems terribly domestic except she didn’t dare to consider underwear. She’s no idea what he wears and the thought of finding out makes her somewhat giddy. Louisa finds herself smiling. Maybe that’s a job for next week.

Spiro loves roads, especially this one. It winds back into the market square. If he doesn’t wish to linger there, there’s a beautiful short cut to Louisa’s house. Or is that a shortcut to beautiful Mrs. Durrell’s house? The Durrell’s home. Not his. Even if he wants it to be his home. Yet this morning the mood wasn’t right. He sensed sorrow that didn't come from an argument. He navigates a hairpin bend that brings him to a rooftop view of the streets where he lived 48 hours ago. He is certain that he won’t return, war or no war. Dimitra’s accusations hurt hard. Their row must have been heard over town and he concedes now that his wife had a good point. He is in love with Louisa and that’s as bad as the fling which his wife confessed to. 

He loves Louisa… 

Spiro stops the taxi abruptly to consider this. It’s not Louisa who broke his marriage, he and his wife managed it years ago. He thought he would feel deep sadness but thinks only of relief. He really should talk to Louisa and remembers that she’ll be in the market today and impulsively turns the taxi westwards to offer her a lift home.

‘She’s is at home,’ Leslie reveals as Spiro interrupts his dubious attempt to flirt with Sophia from the stall next door. It isn’t going very well. Spiro looks concerned, ‘She’ll be okay, probably having a lie-down. It’s not a good day for the Durrells. My father… look, my mother will tell you, it’s better coming from her.’

Leslie is distracted, looking wistfully across to Sophia who has turned her back on him. Impulsively, Spiro ruffles Leslie’s hair, messing it up and points to his socks, ‘take them off, you look likes a tourist’ and slaps Leslie heartily on the shoulder, ‘You is a hero, Leslie Durrell, saving my lost kitten from the tree.’ 

‘What kitten?’ Leslie hisses in bemusement.

‘No idea, make it up.’ Spiro grins and hops back into his taxi to see Sophia taking a sudden interest in the middle Durrell, now a savior of kittens. ’You could learn a lot from Gerrys.’


	3. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter where Louisa's worries are revealed and I make Spiro feel guilty. And there is some mild smut at the end, you don't have to read that part if you don't want to. Thank you for comments and kindness, have never written before but was bereft by The End.

The minute tick past. Spiro has washed away the dust from the roads. He was moved to find a pile of new clothes on his bed and tries his best not to feel sorry for something he’s willing to accept that he’s brought upon himself. The shirt and trousers fit perfectly and he’s grateful for something else to wear, unwilling to test Dimitra’s temper.

He longs to see his children but dare not visit until he’s worked out the right words to say. He wishes he could talk to Louisa about it but knows that this would be deeply unfair. Maybe there aren’t any words. This, he realises, is why he’s never envied any friend who strayed from marriage. At some point, they would feel alone with their guilt.

The hour ticks past and he’s made a cup of tea for them both, it’s now cold as stones. It’s strange for Louisa to not tell anyone where she’s gone or leave a note. He supposes she wants to be alone but he’s feeling concerned. There’s the itch of worry in his mind that won’t leave him alone. Either way sitting here doing nothing won’t help. 

Spiro finds he and his car are instinctively drawn to the coastal track that leads to the bench where he used to meet Louisa. He’s extremely relieved to see her pensively sat, looking out to sea.

Spiro rolls the car forward quietly and joins her. Her face turns to him and her eyes are red from tears. This is a rare occurrence, in all the years he has known her, tears are rare and when they happen he knows it’s for good reason.

Louisa mumbles, ‘Lawrence, anniversary, he died on this day.’

He holds her tighter, murmurs her name, unable to comprehend what she must be feeling. Here he is feeling relief at ending his marriage, and she’s mourning her pain. ‘I’m sorry, you must want to be alone. I was worried when I couldn’t find you.’

‘Is everyone alright? Please don’t tell me Leslie has been shot by Sophia’s father.’ Louisa looks alarmed.

‘No, but if he had I’d fix him. You don’t have to do this alone anymore.’ Spiro explains his encounter with her son which raises a smile and presses a handkerchief into her hands, ’thank you for my clothes.’

‘You look very handsome indeed.’ Louisa smiles and adjusts the sit of a button on his chest. ‘I am sorry Spiro. Today is a difficult day. I couldn’t explain last night. It didn’t feel right to tell you then.’

Spiro hasn’t any words but he feels like a selfish fool for being wrapped up in his own thoughts. He holds Louisa tighter and speaks into her hair, ‘Tell me about Lawrence.’

‘It gets harder to remember him these days, I think that’s why I get upset. I can’t remember the sound of his voice anymore.’ And yet, with Spiro’s gentle encouragement, she speaks about how they met and where they traveled. ‘Larry is a lot like him, with his impetuous ideas, Leslie has his self-doubt, Margo inherited his ego and Gerry, his curiosity. He was generous, lovable and I trusted him.’

She looks through her purse and finds an envelope. Inside are photos of her children and he sees one of himself that makes his heart jolt in his chest. Then she pulls one out of a man who looks a lot like all her children. He studies him and smiles softly handing it back to her.

‘It takes a lot for a widow to love again,’ Louisa watches a family of swifts loop around them thinking about her next words before she turns to face him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. ’You need to know that you’re the only man who has measured up to him and exceeded him. It’s why I would always wait for you. Hugh and Sven, I cared for them and still do, but I never loved them enough to let them in my bed and share my darkest fears as I do with you.’ 

Spiro is quietly stunned, ‘I didn’t know.’ 

Louisa twists her fingers, pale, within his, over the mark where his wedding ring once was. She imagines their bodies wrapped together and what that means to her. ’I want you.’

Spiro kisses her hands and looks at right at her, gently nods. She just knows that he understands and she sighs with peace.

‘Home,’ he says presently, opening the taxi door for her. ‘Let’s go and find the young Durrells.’

‘Larry said he would cook dinner,’ Louisa remembers with sudden alarm. She laughs when Spiro drives a little faster.

The house is quiet when they arrive. He’s touched that the children have included him in this emotive meal. They’ve cobbled a dinner together between them, Larry clearly forgetting anything useful. Leslie is quietly chopping vegetables and directing Gerry at the cooker, Margo lays the table. There is a smell of burning which Spiro and Louisa politely ignore as they open wine and windows.

Larry looks at Spiro, opening his mouth to explain. The Greek man smiles gently and nods. Relief crosses Larry’s face as if he too can’t get the words out to express his regret. He settles for thanking Spiro for looking after his mother.

A toast is made to their father and Spiro listens as they talk about the man who meant so much He’s genuinely interested in their tales of India and England. As they talk, he collects the plates and starts to wash the dishes. If the children are curious about his relationship with their mother, Louisa’s soft kiss as he quietly gives them space to talk leaves them in little doubt. Nobody seems at all bothered, as if this is just regular behaviour. Margo gets up to help him and impulsively, she gives him a hug, ’I’m glad you’re here, it’s the best anniversary yet.’ 

Larry hushes them to silence as they sit to cut a cake, tapping on his glass, ‘One more toast. To Spiro and Mother’. The children are unanimous in their cheers.

Gerry corrals his family, which now very much includes Spiro, into feeding and putting animals to bed. Finally, after some bickering over the last piece of cake, the family go to bed.

Together they blow out candles and lanterns, close up doors and the house settles around them with a gentle sigh. Louisa takes Spiro’s hand and they climb to the peace of his attic room. In the light of the moon, he watches and waits as she undresses him. He stands oh-so-still as she runs her hands over him, every sinew traced, mapping this new man in her life. He’s aware of the magnitude of this moment for her and stands still for as long as he can before his resolve is broken and he can no longer resist her. 

She gasps as she feels him enter her. She sees the effort it takes him to move slowly etched on his face, ‘You won’t hurt me, Spiro, I trust you.’

His jaw visibly unclenches as her hips rise to meet him, the muscles surrounding him tightening to bring him even deeper, closer to home. His breath leaves his lungs in a rush as her hands reach behind him to pull him hard against her.

He rises to his hands so that he can see her face, look into her eyes. He sees the tears on her cheeks flushed with ecstasy, watches when her release washes over her. He lets go of the moral codes and control that he’s maintained for too long, feeling his urgency grow. He feels tears in his own eyes as his voice breaths out her name in the quiet room. He collapses on top of her, feeling her hand stroke his head in silent love. 

Midnight comes and midnight goes, she starts the next year of her life with Spiro and at peace.

He kisses her, "My Louisa."

She understands.


End file.
